Friday, June 1, 2018




Surrounded by shreds of mist,
wrapped in moist coldness, I try
to find my way to a refuge
Something is lost, I can't figure out
where to find it, if it can be found
All pathways seem alike
and it doesn't matter which one
I chose, it will lead me in the wrong direction
My legs hurt, my feet burn, my head tolls
I take a deep breath, the fog seems
to retreat, slowly, a vision appears
I'm in a park with elms, beechen and firs,
sprinkled nuances of all shades of green
The haze is getting thinner, a timid sun tries
to dole out some of her welcomed warmth
A pebble-paved path unfolds, meandering
through the park environs, I have to follow
Somehow I know for sure, this is the way
to all my answers.


Humiliated, damaged
Without consent, you took
what wasn't yours
You stole my innocence,
my trust, and faith
You destroyed
my joy of life,
crushed my self-esteem
All you left behind
is a tattered reflection
of the woman
I used to be


Our small town still effuses a warm hospitality
when I walk down the old Main Street with
the little cobblestones and ancient oak trees

Bradford's Butcher Shop and Bentham's Bakery
are still there, I'm eager to pay a visit to Stevenson's
Gift Shop, on the corner of Wellington Street

Once, I bought a cute little cat statuette there, maybe
they still sell these adorable trinkets. Full of expectation
I round the corner and see the sign on the door 'CLOSED'

Suddenly it doesn't feel quite like home anymore


INGE WESDIJK:  Daginne Aignend is a pseudonym for the Dutch writer, poetess, photographic artist Inge Wesdijk. She likes hard rock music, fantasy books, and loves her animals. She's the Poetry Editor of Whispers and has been published in many poetry journals, magazines and anthologies. She has a fun project website

1 comment :

  1. "Zeitgeist" is the one in this trilovy that hits home for me, on a personal level... I will be reminiscing for hours on end, about Oak trees, court squares and timeless trinkets.